Perfecting the Mask
by LayDCardinal
Summary: It was a life of masks and public facades after one betrayal altered the path of Harry Potter and the life of his sons. Scorpius didn't know if the mask or the puzzle of Albus intrigued him more. HP/DM, AP/SM. Non Canon after epilogue
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Nothing of JK's is mine, and it never shall be.

AN: This will probably eventually end up mature, so I am ranking it there. It certainly will end up M for language. There is some Ginny bashing, and a hint of Weasley bashing later on. The Weasley bashing is minimal though. There is slash, so as usual, if thats not your thing then don't read on. That said enjoy...

"Who are they?" I asked, without letting any interest creep into my voice. It was second nature to never give away my emotions, and my father Draco Malfoy, had trained me well.

I felt, rather then saw, Liam Zabini look towards where I had my eyes casually directed. His eyes flashed with a bit of surprise. Liam had never been able to completely cover his emotions. A little too much of my Aunt Pansy in him; still, he was able to recover nicely.

"Scorpius, they're the sons of the great Harry Potter if I'm not mistaken."

I nodded for him to go on when it became obvious that was not going to grant me a run down without some sort of prodding. Hateful man. He only kept his thoughts when he had rare and valuable information, or wanted to make a point of it that I was lacking knowledge. Which was decidedly rare.

"They are Lord Harry Potter's only children. James is the taller one, supposedly a little more outgoing with intimates than his younger brother, Albus. I believe they are seventeen and sixteen respectively. Story goes, at least from rumor because no one has confirmed it, that their' mother Ginerva Weasley got a little sick and tired of being the home wife to the great Harry Potter. This is after he became an auror. Supposedly she not only cheated but made the mistake of getting involved with some ex-death eaters. I believe some sort of gambling was also mentioned, though again purely speculation. Some sort of confrontation occurred, but the take home is Harry Potter took his then toddler sons and left the country. The divorce was handled quickly and quietly, and all associations with the Weasleys ended. The media had a grand time trashing both sides. Anyways, the older sons seem to still be able to claim an intimate relationship with the Potters. From what I know they grew up abroad traveling everywhere. Actually my father once told me while seeing Potter's picture in the prophet, that it was quite sad. The man was supposedly quite rash and loud during Hogwarts, but now he's at the opposite end of the extreme. There were even some rumors that he went a bit dark." Liam shrugged, as though he didn't quite buy that last bit of information.

I listened to every word, soaking it in as I stared at the young men. Well, Albus more specifically. The ballroom was full of the most influential wizards and witches in the world, and Albus looked like he would rather be anywhere else. Not that he wasn't covering his panic well, he was, but I'm much better at masks then he could ever hope to be. A life time of constant practice. Still, he looked the part of a noble son.

Harry Potter's sons, eh?

Or Lord Potter-Black, and most the world referred to him. My father never acknowledged that the man had his inherited titles. But then, my father was a proud man who had been denied the one thing that he had always wanted.

His magical match.

He'd never said it of course. However, it wasn't hard to figure out. Not when he kept a picture of Lord Potter in his nightstand. Of course it wasn't a normal prophet shot, or some posed picture of Harry Potter- Savior, if you hadn't heard- with a grin shot. No, it was Harry Potter looking haggard after the final battle. I never understood why he chose that one picture, but then my father and I had a complicated relationship.

I loved the man more than anything and respected him, but well, things would always be complicated. Of course that was expected when your father married your mother for the sole purpose of obtaining a heir, and then divorced her before you took your first breath. Literally, the barrister stood outside the delivery room! First wail and the quill started moving. It shouldn't be surprising though since Malfoy's were never very subtle about discarding what they no longer wanted. At least privately.

Staring at Albus though, I thought I could at least fathom the "Potter" appeal. Albus was different of course, but he had the same legendary eyes as his sire. His hair was a deep brown, that could pass for slightly black, until you saw him next to his father, who's hair was black as a raven.

I took him in with my eyes, soaking up the details I knew others would miss.

He was dressed impeccably, though more towards muggle dress then wizards; tuxedo instead of dress robes. That was more of the fashion now though, and not necessarily a proclamation on his father's legendary muggle loving background.

The man carried himself well, I noted. Something that could have only been learned through lessons which in itself posed some questions.

I realized that Liam, though making casual conversation, was keeping an ear out for my next thought.

"Their father was known to have decidedly muggle leanings."

It was the way we talked. No questions; just statements. Liam and I had been practically raised together, and he knew exactly what I meant.

He turned sideways toward me, cutting out a few people, and giving the message that they were to back off for a few moments.

"Yes, however that was before he was, well, deceived. The boys were to have an average half blood childhood I would imagine. However, Lord Potter took up his titles and control of all business holdings after that incident, and raised his sons as befitting his station. I'm told they attended private schools, and had the best tutors out there. Not pompous ones with resumes, but the functional ones. They associate only with their intimate group, and I'm told that though they are quite selective they still spend a good deal of time in the muggle world. Merlin, knows why."

His voice held a good deal of bafflement. As though the concept of someone who had all the money and prestige one could hope for, and still venture into the muggle world was a mystery. A common belief amongst purebloods still, one fostered by Liam's mother, but it held no magic superiority undertones. Just confusion.

It was decent information. Rumors and speculation for the most part though. I never counted on rumors.

I watched Albus walk with his brother, chatting with acquaintances but rarely accepting any new introductions. They were polite, charismatic even, but they held themselves aloof. I watched his green eyes roam the room, and willed them to connect with mine.

Somehow I knew they would, and a few moments of patience paid off. Our eyes connected and I watched for any facial changes, but the man was surprisingly adept at masking any. The only cue he gave of acknowledgment me was a slight opening of his mouth.

I felt a tugging on my jacket, and finally turned back to the conversation effortlessly, as Liam warned I was becoming a little too obvious in my interest.

Yes, I was very interested in Albus Potter-Black.

An hour later I figured I had waited long enough to gain an introduction. I scanned the ballroom, looking for the right person to ask, and as luck would have it the current Italian Minister of Magic was talking quite amiably with the Potters. Liam's uncle was a surprisingly good contact to have sometimes.

I made my way around the dance floor, not catching the eye of any women or men who were trying to catch mine. As if I would ever consider them? They had to be mad.

I casually made my way up to the group of five that included Liam's father, uncle, our own minister, and the Potters. Liam's uncle, Nicholas, noticed me first and I nodded in the Potter's direction for an introduction.

I saw the man smile a bit. He was sometimes too damn perceptive. That, or he knew how finicky my taste was. Probably the later.

"Al, James may I introduce Lord Scorpius Lucius Severus Malfoy. Scor, its my pleasure to introduce to you Lords Albus Severus, and James Sirus Potter-Black."

I bit back a choking laugh. At least I knew what I could say to get his attention, but I immediately stuck my hand out to the eldest first, as was his right. He acknowledged me with a slight lift of the head and small quirk of the lips, pumping my hand exactly twice. Perfect manners.

I moved my gaze to Albus and lingered over the handshake two counts longer then proper, showing my interest but not disrespect.

"It seems our fathers both admired the same man."

I made the comment lightly, and got a small smile in return. He must have noticed that I kept his hand a hair longer then proper, but he didn't acknowledge it.

"Yes, though I am sure they admired and knew the man quite differently." He said it quiet and steady. I detected a faint accent but couldn't place it.

"Most assuredly."

"I didn't see your Father come in Scorpius." I loved my Uncle Blaise fiercly, but wished he'd shut up at the moment, as he forced me to take my eyes away from the complex green ones I had been feasting on.

"No, he's in France right now. Latest acquisition took a little longer than he had anticipated." I suddenly got an idea. "However, he will be back for the World Cup tomorrow."

I turned to Albus again. "Do you plan on attending?"

James answered for him. "Our plans are not firmly settled. We may be meeting our father in Romania."

I made sure that I kept the surprise from my face.

"Forgive my boldness, however I have grown up hearing stories of your Father's great skill on a broom. I assumed there was no way Harry Potter would miss a Quiditch match. Especially the World Cup."

I tried to make light of it but realized immediately that it was the wrong thing to say, as James smile tightened to one of all teeth. I evidently hit a nerve.

"You are mistaken. Our father has never watched nor taken part in the game. Though my brother and I sometimes do, but it is a sport designed for those with too much time on their hands. Idle brains are not useful ones. Excuse us, but we promised a word to Lord Longbottom and I've just spotted him."

Any hope I'd had went out the door as James left with Albus right beside him, Albus whispering furiously to his brother. They did indeed make their way to Neville Longbottom who embraced the boys in a solid hug which was returned with enthusiasm.

I turned to Uncle Blaise in question.

"What the bloody hell happened?" I whispered.

He looked at me surprised, and I shrugged. If I couldn't lose my temper with family, then it was ridiculous to distinguish them as such.

"Actually I am not too certain, but he was right. I can't remember seeing Harry Potter at a Quidditch game in years. Quite odd considering he was the youngest seeker in a century. Could have gone pro, and it was obvious back then that he loved the game."

"Really?" Nicholas questioned. "I've known Harry and the boys for quite some time, and can remember vividly that the boys were not allowed to play Quidditch. They were allowed to learn to fly, and every position of the game, but they most certainly were not allowed league or friendly games. Harry mentioned once that it was frivolous. That he wouldn't allow his son's heads to drift in the clouds. I never quite understood it, but the boys seem to accept it."

"I imagine it has something to do with the Weasley bint." Blaise said harshly. I took it all in quietly. Since I knew nothing it was best to let them talk without interruption.

"She played on their Quidditch team during school, orr could be because her most public affairs were with Professional Quidditch players. I suppose it could be for a thousand different reasons." Blaise sighed at the end.

"She really fucked him up, didn't she?" I questioned lightly, while taking a sip of champagne from my glass. My uncle didn't seem to take it lightly. Instead, he looked considering at the Potter heirs.

"Harry Potter went from a rash half-blood, with too much Gryffindor pride and honor, to a quiet man anchored in determination to not get close to anyone."

And then he shocked me. "Merlin knows even you father thought about trying to snap him out of it."

My father? Merlin, I always thought the man was just too chicken-shit to do anything about his obvious… whatever it was, for the Savior of the World. Magical matches were nothing more then that, and rarely did they meet or end up together.

I watched Uncle Blaise glance to Nicholas, who nodded and hauled off the English minister who had stayed quiet during the whole encounter. Either the man knew nothing, and wanted information, or he knew it all and wasn't going to say anything.

Blaise motioned for me to follow him outside, which I had no problem doing. I hated to admit how eager I was for information. I had patience though, and it was tested as my uncle stood by the rail on the large veranda and lit a cigar. Merlin, I would never understand my father's generation love for the things.

"I don't know how much you know, but your Father and Harry Potter were quite the pair at Hogwarts." I nodded. Stories of their fights were legendary, and definitely not anything new. Blaise smiled slightly, as though he understood my derision at the need for privacy at known information.

"Of course that was only the half of it." Now he had my attention, and by the bloody smirk, he knew it.

"Well, I guess I should amend that. Harry Potter thought that was the whole of it. He never understood that as much as the Slytherin's hated him, towards the end they pitied him even more."

Why on earth would they pity Harry Potter? The man was a legend, with power that rumored to rival merlin himself? He had money, friends, favortism among staff…well except for Severus Snape.

"You see no one realized until, I believe it was, the end of our fifth year that Harry Potter was to be pitied. We had all assumed that he wore ratty muggle clothing because he didn't want to associate with his pureblood side. We all assumed he was throwing the fact that he would not rely on his inheritance money in our faces, while the rest of the pureblood heirs used their vaults without restraint. Merlin, Scorpius we had meetings about how much we hated him. Finally it was Snape who let the truth slip to Pansy."

I was enraptured, I have no problem saying it. Hanging on every word.

"Pansy was prattling how Potter should date Weasley because he seemed determined to never spend his money, and they were moneyless blood traitors so that was a match made in heaven, when Snape cuffed her on the back of the head and laughed harshly something like, "maybe if he knew.""

Silence reigned for a few seconds, and it was obvious Uncle was deep in thought. Merlin knew I wasn't about to interrupt though.

"I think that was the beginning of our knowledge though. We all paid more attention in our own little ways. It certainly helped when someone overheard Dumbledore arguing with Severus about Potter. I don't even remember what it was about, but by the beginning of our sixth year we all put together our research and realized that we hated a boy that knew nothing. Potter was nothing more then a pawn. We all thought he chose his muggle relations, another smack in the face to the pureblood lot, but turned out they hated him and vice versa. The boy had no idea that his school vaults were not the Potter vaults, and he had no idea the house they told him his parents owned was a small shack compared to what the Potter estates consisted of. I remember it like it was yesterday as we sat around the Slytherin common room, those of us that leaned light or neutral in our own minds, and realized that Potter was to be pitied. I don't think even Harry knew the whole story until he went through documents, which was after Weasley's incident. What's certain is that he learned Dumbledore, although a good man underneath it all, had kept Harry exactly as he wanted him. The man probably even loved Harry in his own way, but still Harry was a pawn to be kept thankful to the Order."

"Which brings us around to your Father. I don't think he believed it at first, but he watched Potter with care. Draco threatened everyone, though under the guise that Potter was for the Dark Lord to deal with, that they would deal with him if they ever laid a hand on Harry Potter. Your Father was attracted to Harry from the beginning I think… or maybe the word is drawn to him. Yes, that's it. And once the Weasley ordeal went down I watched your father scope every article for truthful information. At one point I think he even tried to approach Harry but by that point Harry had found out about the billions of galleons he had and fled Europe. I'm sure the treachery mounted to a significant amount, and for years no one got close to Harry Potter with out guards getting in the way. Your father seemed almost sad, and truth be told so was I. At Hogwarts your father and Potter both challenged each other like no other could. Ying and yang. I don't think either would have enjoyed Quidditch if not for each other. Pans who mentioned once that it was like pulling a school-girl's pigtails half the time. Unfortunately the person Draco pulled the hair of never understood it the reasons behind it. None of Potter;s friends bothered to help him out in that area either. After all, he was supposed to marry a Weasley."

It was so much for me to digest. Who knew if Uncle Blaise was right, but somehow I knew he was. It certainly fit together a lot of pieces of a puzzle that I had not known wasn't complete. Merlin knew Hogwarts a History certainly had some facts dead wrong though. There were other things I still wondered about.

"Why didn't my father go after him? I mean Potter's been available for years now."

Blaise looked thoughtful, and then shrugged, and looked at me.

"I don't know Scor. Maybe he did and Potter rebuffed him. Maybe your father figured it was too late, or maybe this is all in the past and your Father got over it."

Definitely not the last. I made a habit of checking his night table and the picture was still there. Other pictures of Potter came and went, and I had no idea what he did with them, but that one picture on the battle field stayed. With all the information I thought it made more sense that Potter had rebuffed him at some point. My father was a man who hated, or whatever the emotion was, Potter for years all because of a stupid handshake misunderstanding. And I only knew of that fact because of Aunt Pansy's exasperation with my father when he was drunk one night.

I started to turn away but was caught by my Uncle's question.

"You're interested in Albus."

Well, I wasn't surprised. I had made it obvious enough.

"Maybe."

I could hear his low chuckle. "Word of advice Scorpius, only go for it if you plan on being in it for the long haul. He doesn't do casual fucks like you do. And two, don't be an idiot."

I had no idea what the last comment meant, and wasn't sure I wanted to know. I nodded my head and walked back inside, leaving Uncle to finish his cigar.

Immediately I was immersed in women's perfume and gave a chilled smile as I made my way back to Liam. I searched for Albus, but found him absent. Damn, I had wanted to at least have a small conversation with him.

"He left about five minutes ago, security in tow." Liam whispered, and laughed at my expression, which I quickly fixed.

I nodded and then resigned myself to another hour of flirting and chatting before I could go home. My Uncle was right about one thing, I was too young to want anything other than flings. And merlin knew I never had to chase anyone. People flocked to me not the other way around.

* * *

I watched my nephew in all but blood walk away from me and flirt for another two hours before taking the bartender back to his flat. I mentally winced, and wondered if the Malfoy generations were doomed to always be this stupid about the Potters. Surprisingly Lucius had been an utter idiot around James Potter too. Of course Lucius had hidden the lust behind the hate very, very well. At least according to my mother.

Draco had never come up to scratch when it came to Harry, and it seemed as though Scorpius would do the same thing as Lucius. Sow his wild oats for a few years, gain a reputation, and watch from a far as the Potter who he was doomed to admire fell in love elsewhere.

Malfoy pride had won out for three generations. I didn't know if I was supposed to admire the strength of that DNA trait or pity it. Merlin knew it never had made anyone happy in the end.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Same as before.

I woke from a dream like non other; grey eyes following me everywhere, intent and possessive.

It wasn't hard to deduce who's they were, but it still surprised me. I knew better then to start dreaming of a man like that. A man like Scorpius Malfoy would know how to take his pleasure and leave the other party on the floor broken and confused. Hell, rumor was he had gained expert status at it.

"Al?" I heard the question coming through my door.

"I'm up. I'll be ready in ten." Even through the door I heard the snort of disbelief, and swore I would get retribution on James later.

I was as good as my word though, and ten minutes later I was sitting in the morning room eating breakfast.

"The tickets come yet?" I asked after swallowing a mouth full of eggs.

James quietly handed them over for my inspection. He had almost chewed Scorpius Malfoy out last night for the presumption that we would attend the World Cup but in the end though he convinced me that we should throw them all for a loop and go to the game. I was against it, but finally caved after James pleaded, and bribed me into submission. James loved Quidditch, and even though we rarely played I just didnt have the heart to deny him the pleasure of watching a World Cup.

There certainly wasnt the possibilty that James would go alone. The united front of our family was important, and I had a soft spot for this subject since Father couldnt stand the game. After researching into the early morning hours, and finding that Malfoy had indeed spoken truth that our Father had played during his Hogwarts years we assumed it was potentially yet another change Father made for us. Because of us.

I looked down at the tickets again, and noticed who was playing. Shit.

"You realize they will be there?"

James looked up from his plate and shrugged. "You have a desire to speak to any of them?"

I thought about it carefully, and after a few minutes of silence James gave me the look that said clear as day he thought I was over thinking it. Less mistakes that way though. Or less that you blamed yourself for. Bill, his wife, and kids were the only ones I could possibly see myself conversing with. Charlie's family was in Romania still, and the rest we didn't acknowledge. Ever.

"Bill might be there. We can say hello," I answered reasonably.

James nodded. He would go with what I wanted on this. Inside I knew he had more of a desire to know Fred and George since they were a little more like him than our other uncles, but I had no such desire. My father had lost touch with them years ago, and I didn't figure there was any point in creating new boundaries. We would be in England for such a short time anyway, so the status quo was best.

We had good seats I noted, but realized darkly that our box with the Italian minister, and his VIP's, had unfortunate neighbors. Great Britan's Ministry on one side, and players families on the other. Was seeing a game worth it?

"Stop worrying" James said, barely looking up from the prophet. "Seriously, they never dare say anything to us. And even if they tried, we can handle it." Then James got the smile, the one I hated. "Unless it is the young Malfoy who has you worried? Scorpius? Fine ass on that backside."

I snorted. I never knew if I was amused or annoyed when James made such crude comments. My responses just never seemed right, and it never was the response that James seemed to desire out of me.

"I don't do casual one nighters. Unlike some people in this household." I tried looking stern, but failed miserably. My brother tried to look offended but his lips twitched in amusement.

"Please. One, I would never recommend Scorpius Mafloy as a one nighter, or really anything come to think of it. He is far from suitable. Second, just because I'm not a monk doesn't mean I am a casual one nighter type. You will remember that the blonde girl in Italy was a three nighter."

I smirked. "That's the record holder?"

James smiled. "What can I say? I'm a chip off the old block. …wait no that's you. Monks the both of you."

We bantered back and forth while we ate, but I went back to thinking about his comment on Scorpius Malfoy. Why was the man not suitable? Because of his reputation, or status, or his last name? Or none of the above?

Most would say James was easier going then me, but he could be much more of a prude sometimes. And he was actually a little more vindictive then me as well. You crossed James, you never got close to doing it twice; he would ruin you. It was the reason why he was willing to give Fred and George more of chance; they had never done anything to him personally.

Me, I was willing to give people a chance until they did something to me personally, and it had to be unforgiveable. James thought I was too lenient. He didn't say so, but I could see it in his face sometimes. However, I knew others said behind my back that I was just as bad. You hit me hard enough, and not only will I never associate or acknowledge you again, but you'll never get anywhere with anyone who knew. James is fond of telling me that I lack the killer instinct, but I didnt want to be as vindictive. Either method got the point across, and people did not cross our family often.

We ate our breakfast in mutual silence, scooting sections of the Prophet back and forth as usual. The Cup was early which meant leaving even earlier so that security could do their checks. I remembered with a grimace that they had not exactly been thrilled with the abrupt departure from our itinerary, and had likely spent the night canvassing the location. I made a mental note to thank them a few times today, but otherwise decided that most the securuity detail would appreciate being at the Cup once they were there.

James, I noted looked excitedly at his World Cup brochure, while all I could think was today was going to be a hell of a long day.

* * *

Merlin, it was crowded I thought, even with our security people standing as a buffer between James, myself, and the rest of the world. James was dressed casually; slacks and a polo, where as I wore charcoal slacks and striped button down.

Neither of us wore the ridiculous face paint that so many fans sported. When our faces made the paper tomorrow, and they would, it would not show anything that would disappoint our father.

We entered the box with a couple of our security people in tow, while the rest fanned out in the stadium, and then said a hello to Nicholas and his family. James and I were actually running early that morning, and were in the box before most of the VIPS.

"Welcome boys!" Nicholas pumped both our hands and introduced his family. "Unfortunately my brother's wife is English so they will be in the next box over. Hopefully you will meet my nephew Liam at some point though. He is a good boy. And of course the Malfoys will join the English minister, who you know well, next door. And I suppose you already know who will be on the other side."

The tone conveyed that he just wanted to warn us if we were completely obtuse. I'm not.

"I am sure we can handle ourselves." I said with confidence. I was introduced to his wife, a lovely women who was more comfortable speaking Italian, and grateful that James and I could carry on a conversation in the language.

I noticed a flash out of the corner of my eyes, and saw that the press were flying around. It's such a shame that they allowed press pictures before games. England had the only stadium that allowed it.

Skeeter was still running articles. I hated her, but knew well enough not to show it.

"Well, if it isn't the Potter-Black men! I'm surprised to see you here, seeing as your father no longer takes in games." She said is sickenly sweet, and I put a hand on James shoulder to restrain him from saying something that would end up with her as an enemy. Not that we weren't already her enemy, but I wouldn't allow it to come out on paper.

Instead I collected my thoughts. "Yes, it is a shame running the Potter-Black Companies takes up so much time."

She smiled coldly obviously pissed I had not taken the bait. I never would. Merlin that would embarrass Father to no end.

"And yet his presumptive heirs find the time to take in such games? Have too much free time on your own hands?"

Now I smiled, and picked up my Italian flag. "Well Ms. Skeeter we reside primarily in Italy, but as you know we were born here in England. We of course want to come see our two home nations compete, and show our support for athletic competition." I waved my little flag in front of her face.

Twist that bitch, I thought smugly. She noticed our security tape-recording the conversation. She wouldn't have the ability to add in any extra words at all.

I smiled even brighter, and pointed to the recorder. "Would you like a copy?"

The bitch shook her head no, and finally flew off to interview her next victim. One day I was going to put that woman out of business.

"Nice job," James whispered to me, and then he returned to his Italian conversation. I gazed out at the crowd that was now filling the stadium. So many people gathered for love of this one sport. I would never truly understand it, but I appreciated it.

There were people already getting into squabbles over their love for different teams; quite pathetic but amusing all the same. To have that much loyalty towards something other then family or friends was baffling, and amusing as hell to watch.

I didn't notice England's Minister box filling until white hair caught my attention. I looked over, preparing myself for to meet Scorpius' gaze, but instead found that of his father's. I had never been so close to Draco Malfoy; his son was almost the spitting image of him. I realized that he was holding my gaze, and resolved to win the staring contest.

Lord Malfoy's gaze wasn't cold; maybe a little shocked. But then, I do look a lot like my father and their' relationship well known. I took my time observing the man. He looked good for his age, especially since he had to be in his mid to late thirties. Draco Malfoy seemed to be every bit the pureblood elitist, but something about his gaze told me that I wouldn't find belief in the purebloo babble in his vocabulary. Finally his gaze tore from mine as the Italian Minister reached over the divider and shook his hand.

I watched Draco Malfoy glance towards me and realized I wasn't going to avoid an introduction to my Father's arch rival.

Instead I straightened and walked the few steps over. I noticed James get up as well, and pointedly include himself.

"Aww here they are." I caught from Nicholas as he turned from his conversation with Malfoy.

"Draco may I introduce Lords James Sirius and Albus Severus Potter-Black. James, Al, this is Lord Draco Lucius Abraxus Malfoy." Draco Malfoy held his hand out, but I noticed James took a hair longer then customary to grab, and pump twice. I felt him release quite quickly, bow, and then sit back down to continue his conversation. He was on the edge of decorum, and I would certainly speak to him later about it.

I made sure that my own handshake was spot on and Lord Malfoy would have nothing to sneer at. I tried to release his hand, but the man simply held onto mine. I glanced down and back up into the gray gaze in question.

Finally he released me. Bloody hell, what was he thinking? Suddenly James' faux pas didn't seem quite so bad.

"You had me startled for a moment. You do look quite a bit like your Father. But then your Father was the mirror image of his. Except for the eyes I'm told." He murmured the last bit, and I wondered if I had entered some alternative universe. Draco Malfoy supposedly loathed my Father. Or at least they were rivals to the highest degree.

Had I gotten that wrong? Or maybe my Father had gotten that wrong? I knew I was looking at the man questioningly, but I really couldn't help myself.

"Yes, I am told that. Though I'm told our personalities match more now in comparison, then they would have when you were at school with him."

I don't know what possessed me to say it. I expected him to laugh, or make some comment that my Father was hotheaded, or too Gryffindor. Something that showed the animosity I always assumed ran two ways.

The man did none of those things though. He looked at me considering, with penetrating gray eyes that flickered from myself towards the turned head of James who was still talking in fluent Italian, though alternating between that and French with some diplomats that had entered the box.

I watched his gaze go soft, and almost sad though only Merlin knew why. The man would probably get along far better with Father now then they ever did in school.

"Yes, well people change. I don't suppose he is here somewhere?"

There again was the idea that my Father had actually enjoyed Quidditch. Of course we researched it, but who knew if he had ever actually enjoyed the game. Sounded to me like he had been pressured into a sport he hated, which wasn't exactly unlikely considering who the headmaster of Hogwarts had been. Was I missing something though?

"No he is not." For some reason I'll never understand I felt the urge to explain. I knew it could be a mistake as I was saying it, but couldn't stop myself. "He hasn't been to a game since I was a toddler."

The man's gaze went from lax, to sharp all at once.

"I'm told he played in school," I laughed now thinking to my Father's opinion of the sport, and all the disgusted grimaces he gave us as we received lessons growing up. "I can't imagine how anyone convinced him to try out. They must have done something, because he despises it. Only for those who have too much time on their hands, lax brains, and their heads in the clouds is his usual mantra."

I realized at once that I had made a mistake. The man looked ill. Not disgusted but physically ill. Still Malfoy didn't look away from me.

"Does he—does he fly at all?"

I thought I had just answered that I thought in confusion. I knew I wasn't giving away any private information by answering since it was at a company picnic that my Father made his feelings duly known.

"No. Father doesn't own any brooms. Used them all as firewood years ago at a company picnic celebrating his first company going public. I mean the first company Father actually started on his own, not the inherited ones."

That had been a huge fire! Some had looked on a little sadly to see, what I am sure were expensive brooms burn and jump up trying to get away from the flames. Their innate magic repelling what was trying to destroy them. But Father cursed them still, and watch every last one burn till there was nothing but ash.

Malfoy turned a shade of green, nodded and then turned around and left the box. Maybe the man liked brooms a little too much? Some people were like that.

When Draco turned away I finally saw Scorpius standing several feet away. He replaced his Father, coming up the the dividing bar with a teasing smile.

"So you made it after all? I didn't get the impression that you liked such games, and yet here you are taking in the Quiditch World cup?"

Merlin, this was the man I dreaming about? I looked into his eyes, and scoffed at myself. They weren't that special and the cockiness that cmae off of him in waves certainly was not appealing.

"Yes, well as my bother stated, we do watch a game now and again. This seemed like a good opportunity before we leave the country." I wanted to get him off the subject. "Did you enjoy the rest of the party last night?"

The man gave a smirk that made me think he was part feral.

"Oh yes, very much. Good food, good service, and in all an excellent evening."

I stared for a moment before I realized that there was definitely double meaning in his answer Did the man really think I cared about his social conquests? It probably would have slipped past most people, but then most people were not as attentive as I. People didn't realize that those in the same social strata seemed to copy cat their language from each other when they were in certain situations, or just being crude.

I fashioned my own smirk, replicating his and adding my own devilment to it.

"Well, I suppose if you needed a quick fuck the waiters and bar staff are always an option. Personally I worry about diseases and such, but since you happen to be such a man about town I am sure you deal. I suppose that is the trade-off if your tastes," I pretended to think for a moment, "run in that particular direction. That and you don't worry about an exclusive on page one that would embarrass your family. Must be marvelous not to worry about embarassing yourself in public."

The man looked like he was choking on his tongue; good. I hid my smile and turned away while he stood there. I knew he'd catch on to the last bit, meaning that while the public at large didn't think he was embarassing himself, I certainly thought he was.

I glanced back once as I seated myself next to James and saw Scorpius smiling at me. What the hell was he smiling at me for? I had just insulted him, his decorum, his values, and possibly his family! The man should be raving mad! Bloody moron.

Merlin, these people were weird!

James looked at me questioningly but thankfully I was saved from interrogation by the start of the match. I have never been so thankful to see Quidditch players in my life.

They flew around and people screamed the team names in good fun. Nicholas asked at one point if we wanted to meet the teams later, however I replied no for both of us. We had once, and that was a disaster. Note for the future: never attempt to meet and have a conversation with someone that your dearest biological mother fucked while still married to your father. It's awkward.

I watched attentively, while James watched in rapture he could not disguise at the various moves and high speeds of the players. It was times like these that I could see my brother loved the game, but it's only at these times he's free to really watch and pay attention knowing that no one would out him to Father. Not that there would be any problem if they did, but it wasn't something that James' wanted reaching Father's ears.

Three hours later Britan's team won, and we could finally leave. Thank god for that! I was amused by the game for a while, but it certainly didn't last. I turned to my left to offer concillatory handshakes to the Italians in the booth, and caught sight of red hair filling the box next to us. They were all cheering since Ronald would probably get coach of the year after this win. Covertly, as I shook hands, I watched them.

Our biological mother seemed to be absent. Not that I minded her in the least. I had faced off with her a couple times and I was never scared of her, and each time I walked away thankful to have my Father. Ronald's wife was present however. A woman that at one time supposedly had been my Father's best mate, but in the fall out had chosen the other side. The couple obviously had children our age from what I could see, though I had never met them. At least now I knew why my Father never allowed Hogwarts to be among the schools we attended. Not that I really cared, or remembered them. I would have researched them if I had.

Our biological grandparents were among the group as well. Again, people that I didn't remember, and didnt want to know. I always found it funny that the whole family, including grandchildren, had red hair but James and I had escaped it. Was is a sign from the Gods or nature that we really were never intended to be part of that family? The rest of the group was obviously made up of our other cousins, uncles, and other players' families.

They seemed to enjoy celebrating quite loudly; jumping up and down with little to no poise. Class and manners were evidently missing in my opinion. I don;t consider myself a snob but for Merlin's sake, I wanted to tell them to have some self respect!

When all the hands were shaken I moved towards the aisle to leave, with following James behind me. The aisle was unfortunately parallel to the team box that held the Weasley's and it didn't take but a moment of me facing them head on for one red head to do a double take and the rest to all follow suit.

These people were a cult I decided with no little amusement.

As I made the turn to go up the steps a hand reached out to me and touched my arm. I looked down and mentally prepared myself to face my blood family. For some reason James always found this easier then me. Why was that?

I looked up into Hermione Granger-Weasley's brown concerned eyes. I didn't want to see their' warmth directed at me. Father would want me to be polite and uncaring I reminded myself. I wouldn't not go against that or disappoint him.

She seemed to notice me taking breathes to steady my temper, and smiled in attempt to ease the tension. I removed her hand from my arm and raised my brow in question. I certainly was not going to be the first to speak.

"Hi Al." she spoke hesitantly but all I could think was that she used my nickname. What right did she have?

I could feel tension at my back and knew James was pissed. I didn't blame him, but I was the one most likely to stay calm. What was I supposed to say to this woman? I had planned it in my head a few times, but now I couldn't decide and my heart was racing.

"I know," she started, "you probably don't remember me, but I—" she trailed off glancing to my right, and into Nicholas' and Uncle Neville's faces. I mentally breathed a sigh of relief. I had no idea where Uncle Neville had come from but the man was a God send.

Uncle Neville was always calm and more then often right about anything he did or said. I always felt like a child around him, but it was the one time I actually liked it because he provided security. He would never let anything happen to James or I.

Uncle Neville moved passed Nicholas who was next to me, and put his arm on the railing so he was perpendicular to the rest of us.

"Boys, its getting quite crowded out there, and I am sure your security team would like to leave now. We're having a barbeque at our estate so they can take you there if you are so inclined."

I nodded, as though he had made it a question, but really I was grateful. Our Uncle's home was always a reprieve and a time to decompress, which I was certain James needed.

I glanced once more at the red heads, taking in their faces. Some seemed angry, others indifferent, and some sorrowful. I told myself not to care. There was no reason to care about these people. Hermione Granger-Weasley was among those with complex emotions. She looked both sad and angry at my Uncle. Not that I blame her in that respect since he had foiled her attempt to speak to us.

As I walked up the stairs I felt my Uncle's comforting hand on my shoulder, and was sure he did the same to James.

Once we reached outside the box there were some reporters to deal with, but they were fended off by my Father's security. I always thought he over did it, but times like this I appreciatedthe shear number of personnel buffering us from the rest of the world. It took but a second to see that the team was also buffering us from two platnum haired men, who were staring at us intently.

"This way Al." Andrew, our head of security directed me, as I did a double take. He was always with my Father.

"He knows?" I whispered as we walked past the other VIP boxes.

Andrew only smiled.

"Of course he knows. Sometimes I don't think you realize just how much your Father knows, or understands. Either of you. And no he isn't angry or disappointed or any of those thoughts you have in your head right now Asp."

Asp, it was the nickname that only Andrew used for me, and had since I was four. I calmed down though and just climbed down cases of stairs, letting the security look out for me, for once. I was too tired to be looking around for trouble too.

Andrew seemed to know my father better then almost anyone, and his statements usually confused me.

I seemed to be in a perpetual state of confusion now a days though.

* * *

I looked from Hermione Granger-Weasley to the boys, as soon as I entered the box. What was she thinking? It was lucky I was only two boxes away when someone mentioned that the Weasleys seemed to be waiting for James and Al to attempt leaving. Anytime the family was around the boy's people watched to see what spectacle they would make of themselves. Not that either James or Albus had seen the attempt to wait them out or realized it.

They both would have faced it head on, but I still entered to see James' face clammed up. He was probably furious that he wasn't standing in front of his little brother. The boys were equal level in maturity but James was as protective as any big brother could amount too.

Al, well the boy looked a little confused, as Hermione started talking to him. This was not the place for this, how did she not see that?

I interrupted and saw relief in both the boys eyes and stances. They hated when the Weasley's made these attempts and hated even more that other's could see it bothered them. I knew later they would contemplate if they had shown any wekaness on the outside, and would look over their reaction to me. It always made me proud to know that they thought of me as someone they could count on. I thought of them like sons ever since I helped Harry the first few months after the Weasley fallout.

I touched the boys as they headed out and watched more of the tension they were holding in dissapate. Thankfully they would get some time at the dinner tonight, and then Harry could help sort them out.

I needed to have a talk with him about all this anyway.

I finally turned and faced Hermione, waiting for her to speak first. She could set the tone of the conversation. I was impressed when she tried to wait me out for a few moments, while the rest of the Weasley clan said nothing. Obviously they had discussed that she would be the spokes person. I waited patiently though, knowing eventually her need to explain her thoughts would win out. I was right.

"I just wanted to speak to them Neville. I am their Aunt, and I care about them."

I looked into her face and saw the truthfulness of the words, and saw some of the Weasley family nod in agreement. I almost felt sympathy for them all. Almost.

This was reality, and there was no black and white, good or bad guys in the whole mess defined as the Potter-Weasley Situation. Well, Ginny certainly wasn't great, but the rest was a mountain of gray whos tones had been muted by the years. Ronald and Hermione were the best examples of that.

The first few years Ronald was pissed at Harry, and held in ernest that Ginny could do no wrong. Come to think of it Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had done the same. And Hermione, well she reasoned that Harry was wrong for many reasons including that he had worked too much, and obviously given off signals that he wasn't interested in Ginny anymore. The woman could reason her way to any decision she thought appropriate at the moment.

Now years later it was evident that the moods had shifted. I was aware of it the whole time but seeing all of the family together just made it more evident.

Maybe it was that they had seen the boys or Harry in the papers over the years and seen the man prosper, reportedly prosper anyway, or maybe it was seeing Ginny mess things up again and again. But what had begun as black and white had turned to gray.

I had no recourse but honesty. Gentle honesty.

"I know you may feel that way Hermione, but this was not a good idea. You must see that." She should her head though, and I knew I would get nowhere with her.

"Neville its been years though!" She let out a huff of air I had no idea how to interpret. "We just want to know them. They are growing up fast and we don't want to miss that completely!" They already had missed it I thought to myself. They had wasted years blaming Harry deciding to isolate him and show disapproval as a family. Their gamble hadn't paid off though, and now the boys were almost grown men.

"And I am sorry to say that it may be a little to late for that." I saw Hermione was ready to get on one of her talking rolls and silenced her with a look.

"You all can see it anyway you like, but it's the way they see it that matters now. The why's and the how's are not your business, but they don't see you as family. They were raised…well, as Harry saw fit to protect them, and how they turned out it partially do to your family's well known attempt to punish Harry. You thought he couldnt raise them himself, that he would come crawling back to you. You're no more than strangers to them now though. Harassing stalking strangers at the moment. I have to go, but this cannot happen again. Try that again and it will be Harry telling you, and trust me you don't want that." I gave a hard look to the adults. It was true. They really, really did not want to see Harry instead of me. "Trust me, you really do not want to deal with Harry."

I started to walk up the stairs, but Arthur Weasley's voice caught me.

"Lord Longbottom, I know Ginny, well, its not important now. But they are our grandchildren. We are the only grandparents they have."

I liked the man, I reminded myself. He always seemed like a decent bloke, and I certainly did not want to hurt him. However, they were being dense. This conversation should have come to pass years ago if it was going to happen. Still, I remained calm.

"It may not be important, but Ms. Weasley changed everything. I don't mean to offend you sir but James and Albus are practically grown men. Men who most likely will never acknowledge a connection with you. I'm sorry to actually say it but you are years to late. Let it go Arthur. Let them go. They are truly nothing like the grandchildren you have Arthur. They wouldnt get along with a single one of you, and they never will." A sigh escaped me. "It's time to let them go Arthur, all of them."

I made my way to the stop of the stairs, only to come face to face with Draco Malfoy. I nodded my greeting to the man, but was upset that he over heard the confrontation. Great, just great I thought as I steped away from him. At least I knew that it would remain private. Draco Malfoy, no matter what anyone said about him, didn't have a loose mouth.

Why did I have a premonition that lives were changing directions very quickly, and there seemed to be no way to stop it? Good or bad, changes and status quo's seemed to be changing by the day.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So for those of you who read the previous two chapters before this chapter (3) was initially downloaded, you might notice I exchanged Harry in for Scorpius where two characters are listed for the story. The story is going in a direction where Harry and Draco's story will be told in equal amounts as Albus' and Scorpius'. Just in case you wondered.

As I sat outside the Longbottom estate, soaking up the suns warm rays, I didn't even attempt to think about the day. Butterbeer, sun shine, and the view were all I wanted at the moment.

I watched James horse around with Uncle Neville's children and wished that for a short time I could go back to the days when we were young. Things were so much simpler then. Lessons and fun. Though I'm not sure I could ever recall a time when it was ever that easy. Lessons and fun were always combined with less enjoyable things.

I always envied that James could horse around for a couple hours and completely unwind. I envied that skill he had o just let it all go.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and although I knew I flinched a bit, I immediately recognized my Father's hand. I looked up and over my shoulder to see his face looking down into mine.

I don't know why but the small smile on his mouth relaxed me more then anything in the world could have.

"Hi," I said, and gave a small smile in return. I immediately scooted to one end of the bench to make room.

He sat down with out another word, stealing my butterbeer in the process, and taking a large gulp before handing it back with a large smile.

"You know you could have gotten your own."

He looked perplexed. "Naw, and yours is closer. Plus I know how you love sharing, and I'm all for giving into your loves."

I couldn't help the short laughter that rose up in me. It was the constant joke in our family that I shared almost nothing. I hated people eating off my plate, taking books with out permission, or James stealing clothing. The butterbeer stealing of my father was just one in a long list of things that had become an annoying but somehow reassuring custom.

My I glanced at my Father as he took his glasses off and replaced them with sun glasses. He sat silently, staring up into the sun with a smile. It was a constant joke among us that he could have gotten his eyes fixed by either muggle or magical means, but he refused. Declared that his eyes had served him thirty some odd years, and he wasn't going to change them now. Plus with his luck he, Father declared, he would end up blind.

Personally I thought he just didn't want to be out of control, but I wasn't stupid enough to say so.

People often tell me that we looked alike, but it's on the inside that I truly see the likeness between my father and I. Not that similarity was good or bad, it just was.

I admired my Father. Few people ever saw him the way James and I did. Well, I supposed that a few close friends knew him in that way too, but they could be counted on two hands. No one in the press would ever believe it if they caught a picture of him right now. Lord Potter in dark wash worn jeans, a black polo shirt, and brown dragon hide sandals. No one had seen Lord Potter in casual clothing since, well actually I couldn't think of a time. Father taught us that we needed to be public ready any time we went out.

Father finally glanced at me as I stared.

He clapped a hand on my knee.

"What's wrong Al? I heard a bit of what happened."

My heart sped up a bit as I wondered what was I supposed to say? They had freaked me out more then they should have. I took a long swig of my drink, thankful for the cool liquid that slid down my throat so easily.

"I don't know." I ran a hand through my hair, even as I told myself to stop it. I had been aware it was my nervous gesture for almost a year, and had yet to find a way to stop the give away. "I didn't handle myself well. You wouldn't have been proud."

I glanced toward him, but he said nothing for a few minutes. Maybe he was disappointed, and he had a right to be.

I heard him take a deep breath, and watched out of the corner of my eye as he turned to me and put his sunglasses on the top of his head. I hated talks like this when we were eye to eye. It was weird. My own eyes looking back at me.

"Al, turn and look at me." He said it quietly and I found myself dragging my feet to follow his command.

"Al, I don't even know what was said and I can tell you with a doubt that I am sure you handled yourself in a manner I would be proud of."

I nodded, and he looked away a bit.

"Do you want to get to know them Albus? And don't answer how you think I want you to answer. Answer with your own opinion."

I wouldn't lie to him. I respected him too much for that.

"I don't know. I like Uncle Bill and Charlie well enough. I've hated the others for a long time. I hate that they act like they have a right to demand we move on from what they did. Want to know them? I may be curious, but I would never allow someone to mess up twice."

I told the truth, but there seemed to be so much more to say. Sometimes it seemed too simple, and other times it felt like my feelings were a novel book length. Was that normal for a guy?

Father kept staring at me.

"Merlin. Albus I raised you and your brother to the best of my ability. Sometimes though…sometimes I wonder how good a job I did."

I couldn't believe that! I liked how I was and I liked my life!

"I think you did just fine."

For some reason he didn't seem reassured, and it was getting a bit uncomfortable.

"We didn't only see the Weasley's by the way." I made sure to keep a good eye on him now. I wanted to know what the story was about my father and his arch rival.

"I met a man that used to claim and acquaintance with you. Does the name Draco Malfoy ring a bell?"

The tightening of his mouth, and widening of his eyes gave away everything.

"Draco Malfoy, eh? He didn't give you any trouble did he?"

My Father wasn't great at trying to sound nonchalant.

"He seemed alright. Was more interested in you then anything. You never told me that you played Quidditch in school, and that you and Lord Malfoy had a bit of a rivalry."

I smiled at him, knowing he would know it was a bit more then that. Or I was guessing it was. Father blushed like I hadn't seem him do in years,

"Yes, we played against each other." He laughed sharply. "Merlin, he and I were oil and water in those days. He was Slytherin Prince and I was, well, I have no idea what I was. He despised me though, along with his whole house. Actually it seemed to fluctuate between that house and most the school, depending on the Daily Prophet."

I looked at my Father skeptically. It certainly didn't sound like a good time, and the Malfoy described certainly didn't sound like the man I met today.

"I will say this though, Malfoy was damned good seeker at the time."

"That was the position you played?" I question lightly. Immediately his face seemed to dim though.

"Yes, well that was a long time ago."

I knew the flash back conversation was over, and just when it was getting interesting too. He snatched my drink one more time and took a large gulp looking at me and grinning.

"So what do you want to do this summer? We haven't discussed it much. Greece? Romania? Americas?"

The idea came to me, and I considered it from all angles then decided to follow my instincts.

"Well, why not stay here? Not all the time of course. But London, or somewhere in the vicinity, would be a good home base for a while. We haven't been here for years."

He shrugged casually.

"If that's what you want. It's certainly your summer to do with as you please. I of course, have a few things to keep me busy in the neighboring countries. We have an estate here though, and can easily have the elves prepare it. Excuse me son. Think I'll go help Neville finish off those steaks. He never did quite grasp the concept of muggle grilling as well as he should have." I chuckled as he meant me too.

I thought about calling Father back as he walked off, but realized their would be little point in it. He still hated being in London, or anywhere in the vicinity. I'd always thought it best not to push him, but I suddenly realized that he was going to stay stagnant.

The memories here just seemed to haunt him like no other. Not that I could blame him. Maybe a summer in Russia would be better? I would have to run it by James and see what he thought.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I'd like to say that I stood up for myself and told father I wanted to stay in England, but that wasn't the case. It would have been the so -called manly thing to do, or even maybe the teenager thing to do, but the truth was I didn't want to disappoint him.

I found an old photo album years ago with old Daily Prophet stories, but I never thought about the significance until he told me about the horrible experience he had with the press as a kid.

The album disappeared the day after Father found me with it, but I asked Uncle Neville as we ate desert, and he reluctantly told me about some of the press he helped Father deal with during his Hogwarts years. They really had been terrible.

Every so often just when I started to hate Father for drilling so many lessons into my head, I gained some insight into why he did it. We handled the press well now, but where would I be if he hadn't taught me what to wear and how to act? Probably, I realized, in the same spot he had been at Hogwarts. The worst making the papers, and all the ordinary things twisted into something horrible. Would I be the same self assured person if that were the case?

So the next morning I told my father I would rather spend a few months in Australia. It would be nothing very interesting, but that was fine. James was py because the estate had a Quidditch Pitch. Father would only join us on the weekends, which meant James could spend some quality time on the pitch.

I still had a few days to decide what I wanted to do, and I knew Father wouldn't push me. For the last few years I had interned at some small companies, planning for my future in the business, and my title opened doors that my resume did not. However, for the moment I wasn't enthusiastic about any of the options I had lined up. Watching the world go by in Australia actually seemed interesting for once.

I was still at loose ends the next day, and found myself standing next to the Leaky Cauldron. Father had a picture of the place on his desk at his office in Berlin. It was old and rugged but still charming.

"Are you going to go in, or just going stand there?"

I started to turn around intent upon giving the person a good lashing when I caught sight of the blonde hair. Great. Little Lord Malfoy. Just who I didn't want to see.

"I had not yet made my mind up. I was simply passing through." It was not exactly the lashing I had planned on, but at least I kept my dignity.

"What can I do to convince you to have lunch with me?" he smiled warmly at me. Why? He had to know that his innocent act certainly would not work with me. I knew what he was underneath. A playboy with less sense then brains. Come to think of it I wasn't so sure he ranked high in the brains department either.

"Nothing," I stated calmly.

That seemed to disconcert him. Good. I started to walk away, not sure where I was headed but anywhere else was better then near him.

He caught my arm as I passed though causing me to flinch just a bit. I looked up into his eyes questioning what he wanted. Playboys usually moved on once they realized I didn't play the game.

"It's just lunch Albus. Perhaps at a small casual eatery off of Diagon Alley. Please?"

"Diagon Alley?" I questioned. Maybe that was a nickname for the pub?

By his surprise I determined that it wasn't though. It was a place he fully expected me to know. Why?

He blew out a breathe. "He really cut off his previous life didn't he?" I didn't know what to say, but he shook his head bemused. "No matter. It's the place where the England's wizard society shops and gathers. Your Father spent a lot of time here." He wiggled his eyebrows then, and grinned. "Curious?"

Damn, I was. Very, very curious. Shit. His grin said he knew I was between a rock and hard spot too. I hated the impression he could read me so well.

Finally he smiled. "Come Albus. Lunch wont kill you. And despite your less than stellar opinion of me I am quite respectable I assure you."

I nodded. My curiosity was going to get me in deep shit one of these days. I only hope this wasn't the day. Scorpius Malfoy took my arm and led me to the door of the pub before I could shrug it off. Which I did with relish once we were in the door.

I took it all in as I walked through the door, ignoring the stares and whispers. Despite them, I liked the place. It was a bit dark but had a community feeling. Every type and station person probably ate and drank here. I heard a few call out to Scorpius but he did little more than nod. He kept walking until we were outside back.

Finally he turned towards me.

"You alright?"

He thought that was bad? Merlin, he'd never deal with my life. "Of course," I murmured.

The subject was not open for discussion, and thankfully he seemed to understand that. I watched him tap away at the bricks, and made sure my face didn't show my surprise as the place appeared.

I barely felt his lips at my ear before I heard the whispered, "This is Diagon Alley. Welcome back."

I refused to turn back to him, and knew he would be disappointed that I didn't question him why he thought I had been here before. I certainly had not. Well, I thought, maybe when I was a baby. I had no idea how he would know though.

I kept my eyes straight ahead as we walked passed the various stores. Thankfully it wasn't any better or worse then normal; some stares and whispers, while others didn't notice anything. People were looking equally at Scorpius.

I could see why. Scorpius was an inch or so above six feet, and the word "fit" described him to a tee. He had his white blonde hair tied back in a short ponytail, and yet he was one of the most masculine looking men I had seen. Thick shoulders. I snickered to myself remembering his father's more steamlined frame. Maybe he got those from his mother? Poor girl.

Our walk led us to a side street, and a small café with a roped off outdoor area. Scorpius smiled at a few people, but I refused to look their way.

My father's lessons drilled into my head: If they didn't gain an introduction from someone trusted, then they didn't need recognition.

Scorpius walked up to the podium, and smiled at there middle-aged woman behind it.

"Good afternoon Mrs. Abrams. Might you have my favorite table available?"

I watched as the woman snorted at him. "Yours and everyone elses favorite; without reservations to boot. However, you're in luck that we had a last minute cancellation. A baby that decided not to wait for the due date, obviously going to be a trouble maker," she mused without looking up from her table chart.

I smiled slightly at her. She was no nonsense, and chatted while her wand moved in all directions clearing table and sending plates flying as she walked us to the table. Scorpius whispered to me as we walked, "she's scary like that. Knows absolutely everyone, and still loves me the best."

"Right, you keep thinking that," I responded easily, and received a smile in return.

The table was lovely, on the second floor and out on a private balcony overlooking Diagon Alley. The sound and obscuring charms made it feel private though. A little too private.

We sat and ordered in short order. I found myself watching the Alley and the people that passed by, instead of him. It was far more comfortable.

"You don't remember this place at all do you?" There was nothing but curiosity in his tone.

"No. Though obviously you expect me too." I turned back and considered him. "Why?" I asked.

"Before your Father took you and your brother away you spent a good deal of time here. Fred and George Weasley have a shop just down the street, which you visited constantly from what I am told. I guess you were too young to remember though. Your Father did a good deal of business at the Ministry which is just up the block, and you went to day care just down the street."

"Probably." I refused to discuss my life before my father took us away. There was no point in trying to remember something that I never would. Furthermore, I was uncomfortable that he knew more about that life then I did. I was used to it though.

Thankfully he took the hint.

He asked me about my plans for summer, and I told him that we planned on leaving in a few days. I noticed his face tighten for such a short instant that it could have been a reflex.

After that time flew by, and our lunch entres were eaten before I even realized it. I had to give the man credit, he was an excellent conversationalist. He teased, and prodded me to open up a little more then I was comfortable, but he talked as well. He shared little bits of information that I am sure he told everyone, but was able to say them in a way that he gave the impression of an intimate conversation.

As if each piece of information wasn't already in a little mental file designated as revealable information or safe topic. Things that didn't cause too much damage if they were revealed to a third party or twisted in some way. I thought it was second nature to me, but Scorpius Malfoy seemed to be a master of the nothing conversation.

By the end I had revealed a little more then I had given others, but still nothing that would hurt me too badly when Scorpius gossiped with his friends later. And he would. Almost everyone did eventually.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" I snapped back to the present, and smiled a little. I would have to watch myself with him.

"Just thinking about the delicious meal. I will have to remember this place. Thank you." I watched Scorpius' gaze sharpen for a nanosecond, and wondered at it. It was a nice place I consoled myself, and I would have to take James here one day.

"Yes, well thank you for giving in and joining me." He smiled, and for a moment I lost myself in it. He had a great smile.

I felt something on my hand and glanced down to see him playing with one of my hands. Turning it over in his, palm up, and running the tips of his fingers over the center in a teasing random power. What did he want? I wasn't well versed in this teasing, or what ever this was. Maybe it was time to learn though?

I looked back into his face though, and realized that I was out of my league in experience. Scorpius Malfoy played this game for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I had no idea how to even start it.

I had experience with very few men, and those experiences I had planned every step of the way. They had been sexually experienced good friends, people who had known I virtually knew nothing.

This was not that type of situation.

I felt his finger sliding up my wrist, and snatched my hand back quickly. No reason, I reminded myself to have any kind of temper. Scorpius Malfoy was a fun bloke, he was just playing around like he did to everyone. I could at least be friendly.

When I looked back up he was calm and collected. Good, I wouldn't have to do anything.

"You ready to leave?" I asked, and he nodded.

We made our way down stairs, and out towards Diagon Alley. Without a word we continued up the street while he pointed out the sights to me. It certainly was an interesting blend of stores. Everything one could possibly need seemed to be available in this one location. Eventually, I saw a pet store and stopped dead in front of it.

It couldn't be this simple could it? For the passed two years James and I had tried to track down the breeder of my father's beloved and lost owl, Hedwig. He told us about her sometimes as children when we were in need of a new bed times story. She never did anything spectacular but I could always tell he loved her. Father claimed Hedwig had been smarter then any bird he'd ever owned, and had more personality then any crup he'd met.

That started the search for her breeder, but we never found them. I tried to tamper down my enthusiasm. Certainly a pet shop didn't breed owls, and we had searched aviaries all over Great Britain.

"People buy their owls here?" I question Scorpius not even looking at him.

"Generally, yes. Being a pet store and all that, they tend to sell them rather then the other way around." His amusement rang out.

I am sure he meant it as a joke, but I didn't find it funny. I scrutinized every owl outside but none looked like my father's beloved Hedwig. Her snow white features would have been recognizable.

I walked up to the glass door and gave slight push. Inside was filled with several isles of rats and snakes; separated of course. There was a steady flow of people, but no one stopped me as I walked around the whole perimeter where other owls nested on perches. There were several smaller avian species as well, but not what I was looking for.

I finally made my way to the counter before giving up on the place, where an older man sat trimming the nail of a very upset feline. I could never stand them and neither could Father.

The man barely glanced at me but gruffed out, "something I can help you with?" He sounded as if he wanted to do anything but help me, but I steeled myself. If I walked out with a remark that if customer service wasn't a priority then I would go somewhere where it was, then I would always wonder if this had been the correct place to look.

"Yes," I started, "do you have a list of your owl breeders?"

The man then turned and gave me a crooked amused smile. "You don't get them cheaper just because you get them from the source, son."

I nearly laughed. As if money mattered to me if I could find this breeder. I would pay anything.

"No, you see my Father owned a bird that is somewhat legendary in my family. She may not have been anything out of the ordinary in reality, but I've searched everywhere in order to buy him one related to her. They were rather bonded you see. However, it's been years since she passed away and finding her breeder has been rather difficult." Impossible more like it, but the shop keeper didn't need to know that.

I could see the moment his attention sharpened though, and he put the cat down in a cage. He turned around to a book shelf searching for something. Finally he grabbed an ancient looking notebook with no title on the front. He hummed to himself lightly for long minutes, and I was tempted to thank him for his time and walk out.

"Ah huh, wrong year of course. That's why," he kept talking to himself as he flipped through pages that I couldn't begin to read from my vantage point.

"Yes, there it is. Harry Potter," I startled but stayed silent. Merlin, I hope he wasn't playing me for a fool, "Bought his owl in August, that year. Don't know why I thought it was the next year. Hedwig, I believe she was registered as. Oh, quite good genetics that one."

He glanced back up at me with a sly smile. "Well boy you want to know?"

"Yes!" I said sharply.

He chuckled a bit. I'm sure I looked a little funny. "I never gave out the name of the breeder of Harry Potter's famous snow white bird, no matter how much people bothered me for it. She was his you see. Monterey Avians. They are actually quite common at that aviary, but I stopped purchasing them out of respect for your Father. Would you like me to find out if they have her lines though?"

"Yes. Please, sir. There isn't much I wouldn't do for it." I startled to realize that it was true. There was so little that we could give my Father that gave him genuine pleasure and I had a hunch that this would cap anything else.

The man laughed again. "Yes, well your Father was the same way. Never had much, but Hedwig always had the best he could buy. Come lets use the firecall at the back of the store."

I followed closely, not even thinking about Scorpius, who I knew was behind me. I hope they had one from Hedwig's line, but I would settle for just her coloring, or intelligence. We had owls of course, but never bonded with any of them. They were all spoiled with treats and had a great aviary but I knew it wasn't the same as the bond some people had with their owls.

I didn't even think to listen when the man put a privacy shield around the three us and said a name. A older woman's smiling face appeared quickly though.

"Quinton! Its been a long time, what can I do help you with?"

"I know, an aweful long time really! However, I'm looking for a specific line. A bird related to 5a2y456980." The woman quickly turned away, and I was certain she was looking through her records.

"Oh you're in luck. I got two juveniles related to that one. Trained but not extremely experienced yet. Two boys coming out from the descendents of that particular girl. Look a lot like her actually if memory serves me right, and it always does. You want one?"

I stood in shock and Quinton looked towards me in question. Did I want them? Of course, I wanted them.

"Do you have her line commonly?" I asked, wanting to know if this was a popular line.

"No" the woman said, shaking her head, "the mother bird is the only one I have left out of her line, and she, well she gets a bit testy. Only deigns to have some chicks when she sees fit. Queen of the aviary type, but she amuses me so I keep her. Well that and truthfully I really can't beat the intelligence that she passes along. We always get such wonderful compliments from the owners of chicks."

"I'll take them both." I stated firmly.

Within minutes the woman apparated them over by courier house elves. I peered into the cages, and realized that I had never truly understood how my father could be so attached to an owl but I understood now. If these boys only had half the intelligence gleaming from their eyes as Hedwig had, then they would be magnificent. They looked at me considering, as if they deigned to decide if they wanted anything to do with me.

They would get along quite well in our family, I decided with a good deal of amusement.

We brought them to the counter as other people peared into the chages and I heard some asked to others where I had gotten them from. More then a few upset people exclaimed that they certainly hadn't been outside or around the shop a few moments ago. I would never tell though, and looking back at the owner of the store I knew he wouldn't either. I didn't even blink at the sum Quinton asked, and it actually wasn't inflated at all.

Scorpius held one cage for me as we walked back through the alley, with a lot more attention then before and to the apparition point. The boys could sidelong apparate with me.

I realized as I stood at the point that I had been neglecting Scorpius in my excitement. My manners left something to be desired.

"Sorry, I seemed to just let the moment run away with me." It didn't sound completely unrepentant to my ears, but Scorpius smiled a bit.

"Completely understandable. They are fine looking specimens, and I am certain your Father will enjoy them immensly. Brunch tomorrow?"

Why, I almost sputtered out, just barely catching myself.

"I don't think –" the rest of my polite refusal ended as Scorpius took my hand and brought it too his lips, keeping his eyes locked with mine. What was he playing at?

"It's just brunch Albus. Good conversation with a friendly face."

"Is that what this is?" I asked in all seriousness. Not my level of games, I reminded myself. Never enter a game you can't afford to lose, or there is a possibility of losing. Potter Lesson.

"No," Scorpius whispered. "I just want to get to know you."

He sounded so sincere, and I had not one farthing clue what that meant. Get to know me? Why did I feel certain it wasn't supposed to be a confusing statement?

I gathered up the cages after I had pulled my hand from his tight grip.

"Thank you for the offer, however, it wouldn't be wise. Good day to you Lord Malfoy."

I apparated quickly, seeing just the tail beginning of surprise and anger on his face.

Potter lessons: Don't give up anything you can't afford to lose. I was certain any association with Scorpius Malfoy would go right down that path, and there was no way in hell I was going to do that.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Disclaimer same as every other chapter.

My father's hand was on my shoulder only seconds after Al apparated away. Wouldn't be wise? Of course it was wise! How did he not see that?

"I think you and I need to have a bit of a chat." I could hear the anger in his voice, but I didn't respond. He had been following us since we left the owlry, but I didn't think Albus noticed. I mentally smiled at how engrosed he was with the owls. They had been fine specimens though so it was understandable.

I looked back, nodded to my Father, and with in moments we were in his office at our London estate.

We faced off for a moment before Father went around to sit behind his desk. It was his normal, "I'm pissed off," space. I was not in the mood for lecture though. Al was none of his business.

I waited patiently for my Father to speak first, and when he did his face was alight with irritation. Not that his face had been friendly since we had entered his domain.

"Would you mind telling me just what the hell you think you were doing with that young man?"

I winged up an eyebrow for ironic affect, and saw my Father's face darken. Alright, he was a little more pissed than I had first thought. Father's face was blank with anger, but I had no idea why.

"I believe we were walking and enjoying each other's company." I stated it calmly.

Now Father's own eye brow winged up, as he sat further back in his chair, eyeing me.

"And you thought that was wise idea?"

"Why wouldn't it be? The young man has money, and power. Isn't that all you require of my friendships?"

I watched to see if Father would take the bait, but he didn't.

"Oh, come now. Friendship was the furthest thing from your mind Scorpius! I'm going to only say this once son so pay very close attention, Albus Potter is off limits to you."

I almost laughed, but then realized he was serious. He deigned to actually tell me who I could fuck? Not that, that was what I wanted out of Albus. Was it? Maybe, I thought for a moment and then shook it off. Right now my intentions did not matter.

I stayed quiet long enough that my Father seemed to think the conversation was over, and he got up from his chair. I waited until he was almost out the door before I got in my parting shot.

"Why is he off limits? Is it because you never had the balls to go after his Father? That doesn't mean I shall be the same with his son."

Fahter went very still, and for just a moment I contemplated that I had gone too far. Perhaps I had overstepped that mark, the one I had toed so carefully in the past. The long seconds of silence filled the room with tension. Finally, he turned around to face me, and let out a long sigh.

"What do you know Scorpius?"

"More than you think I do." My Father didn't look amused, but then I hadn't meant the statement to be funny.

"Obviously."

I tried to collect my thoughts before speaking. "Just because you made your choice, doesn't mean that I am going to make the same one."

His bark of unamused laughter echoed throughout the room. My father wore his mask almost twenty four hours a day, but just for a moment I thought I saw a crack in it. Pain flashed through his eyes, but was quickly covered. I knew no one else would have caught it but me. The Malfoys were experts at this game.

"Choice Scorpius? Merlin, you really are clueless to the ways of the world, aren't you?"

Cold anger ran up my body so quickly I had pulled out my wand before even knowing I did so. I retracted it as soon as a realized what I had done. My Father saw it though, and his eyes widened.

"I'm more traveled than you are," I announced hotly. I was. My Father wasn't a monk, but I had certainly been educated in the ways of the world. I was the toast of society. My Father was in the loop, and he knew it.

He nodded, and put his hands in his pants pockets. The fact that he was agreeing with me didn't make me feel a concession would be coming though.

"Yes, however you have yet to take your life seriously Scorpius. I was like you once. I hate to reiterate what others say and be so redundant, but the war changed everyone. We all grew up so fast, and maybe I expect too much out of you by expecting that level of maturity."

He was, I thought to myself. My Father was popular in society, but he was still somewhat of a boor. He never went to popular clubs or concerts. I knew he could see the opinion on my face, but I doubt it mattered much to him. He smiled without humor, and sighed again. I didn't understand what he wanted of me.

"I wanted you to grow up worry free Scorpius, and I am proud of you, but maybe its time you started taking life just a bit more serious. Now you can throw that advice in the dirt if you want, or mull over it for months. But keep this in mind: James and Albus Potter were raised solely by a man who believes in no intimate attachments, aside from with his sons and others which I can count on one hand. Those boys are exactly like him. They have money, power, intelligence, breeding, and lastly, no desire or concept of what a relationship is or could offer."

I couldn't speak, as my Father nailed me with his hard gaze. "So you keep that in mind while you play the field and then try to seduce a Potter. Keep in mind that in his view you can offer him nothing beneficial, even more, your reputation of leaving lovers tossed to the side precedes you. What on earth would he gain from such a relationship? Believe me, he is the type that has a current pro con list of having the slightest conversation with you. I mean this kindly, but please don't make a fool out of yourself. You're a Malfoy son, act like it."

My Father nodded, and walked out of the room, leaving me standing there. I felt my eyes start to tear, but I had no idea why. I turned to the large windows, and furiously wiped at them.

In those few short sentences he explained not only his derision of my life style but his own abilities. Did he wish I was like Potter's sons? So tied up in being correct that they had no fun. I may have made papers often but I ensured I did nothing that would bring shame or embarrassment to our name. I ensured that I had top grades in my classes, signed up for the appropriate clubs, attended business functions, and I was the Slytherin Prince my Father was.

Why was that not enough now? I remembered all of his looks though as I stayed out all night and thought that maybe it was never enough. He was proud of me in many ways, but this was not one of them. The thing was, he was actually right. I could see myself making a fool out of myself over Albus Potter-Black and him doing nothing to encourage it.

And for what benefit? Another notch in my post. I sat down in a large easy chair, and realized that I had decisions to make about my life. Questions and paths I had yet to answer or determine the direction of.

XXXXXXXXXXX

That night at dinner I wondered how to bring up the subject of the owls to my Father. When I got home I thought about flooing to his office right away and then realized that it would not be appropriate. Then as I looked down at the snow white birds ,I realized I actually had no idea if my Father would want them. There was every possibility that he wanted Hedwig left in the past… as he did so many other things. I hoped not. I was prepared to stand up to him if he told me he didn't want them.

Much to my surprise I realized that I wanted them. Earlier, I had sent a house elf out for a large perch, which was now in my room, and all the accessories that an in home owl would have. Ours usually stayed in the owlry, and landed on a few designated perches around the estates.

I was determined that would not happen with Hedwig's decendants. For some reason they just seemed so much more than the average owls we had.

"Albus, are you alright? You have yet to say a word."

I looked up from my half eaten plate to my Father's face and then down to his empty plate. I felt my face flush, as I realized I had been pushing my food around long enough that it was noticeable. James looked at me in concern too.

I hadn't told him about the boys, as I had taken to calling them, either. If I got in trouble over this, hopefully James would be spared.

"I went to London today. Diagon Alley." I said it with casualness and tried not to react to my father's narrowed gaze. Yeah, I thought to myself, this was not going to go down well.

"Oh?" He said it in that quiet tone. The one that meant he was waiting for me to finish digging the hole I had started.

"Yes. I looked it up in the floo directory since I wanted some new books. Interesting place."

I lied straight faced. I was actually better at it then one might assume. My Father looked like he didn't believe a word.

"And that's what you were hesitant to tell me?"

And that's when I was able to cover my tracks with the truth. He would think I was guilty for the owls, and not tracking down his history. Or having lunch with Scorpius Malfoy.

"No. I was hesitant to tell you that I bought two owls. Young males. I'm keeping them as indoor pets."

I looked straight into his face so he would know I was serious. They were going to be indoor pets.

"Al, you know I prefer you not getting attached to animals. They are just fragile. However, if that's what you really want then alright."

My mouth almost dropped open. "Really?" I know I sounded surprised, I was.

Father looked at me and smiled, as though he were amused. "You're old enough to make some of your own decisions in life Albus. Not all of course," I rolled my eyes. "but I've given you the lecture about this enough. If you can take the pain when they inevitably die, which will happen sooner or later, then you can have them inside."

I gandered a look at James and saw his confusion. There was no need to for another owl, and we all knew it.

"However, as interesting as that may be, you are leaving out part of the story."

I knew he would catch on. It was the war instincts.

"Yes well, they happen to not just be any owls. They are decendents of Hedwig." I said it calm, fast, and clear. Then I gulped down half a glass of wine in one shot.

Father slammed his chair back, getting up so quickly that it was nearly knocked over. His face was a white as a sheet. Was that anger? Merlin, in that moment I wished I knew.

"Where?" He asked in a husky tone, that I had no notion how to interpret.

"My room." Father was off through the door before I even finished. I glanced to James who looked pissed. I knew he would be, and only shrugged before getting up and walking quickly to follow our Father.

I could hear James' footsteps following my own through out the halls and stairways to the private wing of the house.

I stood in the doorway of my room not knowing what to expect. It certainly was not the sight before me though. I thought he would be angry or annoyed in various levels. Instead, Father was stroking their soft feathers with a gentleness I had only seen him display with us.

"Why didn't you tell me?" James whispered furiously in my ear.

I shrugged. "You shouldn't have been blamed if it all went south," I whispered back.

He sighed loudly, and I almost smiled. It was the sound that meant he knew further arguing with me would be pointless.

I finally walked over to the owl's perches, and was a little surprised to see that they had taken to my Father so quickly. It had taken a few hours for them to finish considering me, but yet they glowed under Father's touch.

Father's face was still white, but not deathly so. Thankfully. We stayed in silence longminutes, James and I at the door and my Father silently stroking the preening birds.

"Found them in Diagon Alley, huh?"

I heard a bit of amusement in the tone as well, and took a chance to smile at him.

"Well found the store you got Hedwig from, and then tracked down the breeder. Very rare line your Hedwig was from. And the owner keeps it a secret as well. The boys actually heil from the States."

Father nodded, not letting up his petting of the two boys.

"Going to tell me why you were spotted with Scorpius Malfoy at lunch?"

My breath caught in my throat, and I just barely caught the gasp. Shit. Who ratted me out? I thought I had given security good enough reason to be out on my own. Father didn't sound angry though. Just curious.

"Bugger wouldn't take no for an answer. It's alright though. I know he isn't a suitable companion."

The petting stopped and Father cocked his head at me. "Well I suppose that is your decision Al. I trust you know the right sort to be around. I was not questioning you judgment, son. I was just curious."

Which was relieving in itself since I hardly deserved that kind of trust. In the past I had made the mistake of becoming friends with one or two people that I shouldn't have, and the family paid a price. Not that our secrets and private lives had become public, but it had taken considerable power and influence to shut them up. I learned my lesson the hard way.

Though, Scorpius was not exactly attempting to be a friend. I mentally shrugged. Whatever he was attempting did not matter. It was not going to happen.

James came over soon enough and started getting to know the birds. They did not have names yet, so we tossed around possibilties, and laughed at the more ridiculous ideas.

Eventually we decided on Byron for the larger male, and Rome for the smaller. James had put Romeo into circulation, but it was just a little to girly for my tastes.

What surprised me most was as my Father left the room Byron flew after him. He landed right on my father's shoulder. I assumed Father would send him back to the perch. Instead they had some sort of staring contest which apparently Father lost. Eventually he told us it wasn't worth the trouble and left with a smug looking Byron.

James said not another word to me, but smiled and cuffed me on the back of the head lightly. The gesture said he understood, and I was forgiven for the portion that he didn't understand.

"Night Al."

I responded in kind, and then focused on Rome again. It was several hours before I could fall asleep, but I was happy with the days purchase. Hopefully I wouldn't regret it later though; any of it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I usually enjoyed my monthly night out with the mates. Time to drink, talk about kids, love lives, Quidditch results, or anything else that struck our fancy.

It was the one place where my name, Draco Malfoy, was not a title, a curse, or a headline with an exclamation point at the end. When Blaise, and few old Slytherin chums and I started frequenting the pub a few years ago, we arrived one night to find quite a few Gryffindors already had taken up residence.

To this day I'm not sure why any of us didn't walk out that night. Maybe it was the challenge of it, maybe we secretly wanted to get along with people who understood where we came from, or maybe it was the fact we needed alcohol quickly. Whatever the reason, it took a few times coming before we integrated well into a group of men who came to the pub every first Thursday night of the month.

Of course those that had been Slytherins stilled sneered and the Gryffindors still got smashed and talked loud, and the Hufflepuffs, well I found that alcohol actually made that lot more bearable. Hence my willingness to purchase drinks for Hogwarts alumni.

There was only one rule in the pub, one that all followed: nothing made it to the reporters. It had only happened once, and no one would ever dare try it again.

I made my usual rounds and played a few games a wizard billiards with a group of ravenclaws who had been a few years behind me.

Blaise was debating with Longbottom over something, and I went to listen in on the dispute. I derived no small amount of amusement watching Neville Longbottom's stubbornness win out against the best in the room. The man had changed so much since Hogwarts. He had developed into a man I respected, though would never admit to it.

"Bloody hell, I'm telling you Pansy already tried it Neville." I could hear Blaise sputtering, and knew immediately we were talking about Pansy's garden. The woman had a black thumb that killed every plant she touched.

Even Neville's thoughtful cactus gift had perished with in a month at the Zabini house. The damn thing hadn't even been touched.

Blaise had been trying to hire Neville for years to make them a garden and then tend to it. To most that would have been a bit insulting, but not when Blaise was offering the man a million galleons for it. Still Neville had refused, claiming he didn't have the time.

But Draco saw the man's eyes glow with amusement early on, and realized that Pansy and Blaise should really have been nicer to the man in Hogwarts. Eventually Neville would probably give in, but only when he decided he wanted a challenge that running a worldwide nursery business and organic potion ingredients company didn't provide. Well that, and when he decided his current friends had paid enough for their school day crimes.

Neville spotted Draco took the out from the conversation. "Ahh Draco. I hear you've been busy. The Statent merger and all."

Draco nodded, but refused to talk shop tonight. Thankfully he knew Neville didn't either. It was just the man's way of saying he paid attention to current events, which Draco did appreciate. Instead Draco turned the topic to a more pleasant one as he sipped his fire whiskey.

"I saw you at the World Cup. You went with the family?"

Neville nodded, taking a swig from his own bottle. "Yes, I could never get away with not going. The kids love it so much. I saw you with Scorpius, but with the crush I wasn't moving from our box. And then, well you saw it." There was no beating around the bush about the Potter-Weasley incident.

"I thought I saw you near the Italian and English players box Neville come to think of it." Blaise mentioned and then chuckled. "You aren't defecting are you?" he asked in obvious jest.

Neville seemed solemn though, and I realized Blaise hadn't seen the incident.

"No, I was just chatting with Harry's sons."

I nodded, making a motion that illustrated my mirth. It was definitely not just a chat. I certainly didn't hear what was said but the Weasley's had played a part.

Blaise seemed to ponder the answer for moment though.

"Yes, I saw them a few nights ago. Merlin, I can't even remember what function it was. Too many of the bloody things." I often pitied Blaise, Pansy ended up dragging him to far more events than I went too. I could make a last minute excuse to any function, with no one the wiser. Pansy was not forgiving though.

"Yes I remember." Neville commented. "The family will be off in a few days though."

Blaise snorted. "Harry Potter stay in England any longer than absolutely necessary, nooo" he drew it out in sarcasm. It was true that everyone knew Harry Potter hated England. "Don't blame the bastard one bloody bit though," Blaise said seriously.

I kept quiet, while Neville glanced at me. Damn man was all too knowing. Whenever Potter was brought up the man looked to me for reactions. I never gave any.

We chatted for a few minutes about the actual World Cup before Blaise ran out of beer and went in search of another at the bar.

"I heard that Scorpius might be sniffing around Albus." Neville commented it lightly, but I saw the tension in his shoulders.

Whatever I thought about my son's actions in private, we presented a united front in public. "Don't worry he wont ruin the perfect Potter boy." I tried for sarcasm, but Neville's reaction told me I didn't succeed.

Neville cocked his head considering. "I never thought he would. You've done a good job with him Malfoy. You may think he's a little wild, but he does you proud."

I hated the man's perceptiveness, I thought again. I had thought that a lot in the past few years.

"You're not going to tell me he doesn't have shot in hell are you?" I asked.

Neville laughed in amusement, drawing the attention of several people for a few seconds.

"No, of course not. It's not my place."

He had not answered the question. Which told me all I needed to know. Scorpius really didn't have a shot in hell with the young man. Not that I wanted him too, I told myself.

"Have you seen Harry lately?" the question caught me a bit off guard.

"No," I answered lightly, and shrugged, "that man's schedule is far tighter then mine. I believe I passed him at a banquet a few months ago."

I thought Neville would press a bit, but the man only nodded and went back to his beer. Many who claimed an intimate relationship with one of the Potter's would throw it around a bit, but not Neville. That type of loud mouth beahvior actually hadn't happened in a while. I assume that it would get back to the Potters and the friendship would be no more.

Neville had been annoyingly loyal to Harry since the very beginning though.

"I was surprised you gave up on Harry."

I looked at him in shock though Neville did nothing more that take another sip of beer, so obviously unaware that he had shocked me. I could pretend not to know what he was talking about, but we both knew he knew. There really was no point. I could pretend that I had gotten over Potter, but likewise, I am sure we both knew that it wasn't true.

"Yes well the world would have been utterly charmed had I courted the famous Harry Potter," I announced sarcastically. Giving a roll of the eyes at the end for good measure.

"You'd be surprised Malfoy how many people were silently cheering you on and cursing you simultaneously when it became obvious you'd decided against taking on the challenge and manning up. Many thought it would be good for Harry."

Bless him, Neville actually looked serious. Yeah sure, Gryffindors and Harry Potter fans were lined up to see their savior despoiled by the so-called Slytherin Prince.

"Right," I drawled in a bored tone. I wanted this topic ended.

"Please Malfoy, no one could ever deny that you two had something. Some used to complain that you both gave more attention to each other than your current lovers. And as it became obvious Harry was headed down a certain path, well, more than one agreed that you were the only person likely to put some passion back into his life."

Neville recalled it all in such a reasonable tone that it was astonishing we weren't discussing the weather.

"Certain path. Yes, riches, fame, nobility, such a dastardly path for a Gryffindor. Merlin knows how Lord Potter could ever survive."

Neville just looked at me, though I could see the disappointment in his eyes. I hated it.

"You know better," he whispered, staring me straight in the eye, and then murmured his excuses and walked away. Bloody bastard was toying with me. Merlin, I hated when that man talked, because he was too bloody noble to tell lies.

I heard Blaise shout my name from the billiards and decided I would forget the conversation ever took place. Even as a thought it, I knew I was lying to myself.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Disclaimer still applies. I do appreciate the reviews peole have taken the time to write, and I thank you for the support.

On to the story...

I cast a tempus spell discretely, and mentally agonized that the meeting wouldn't be over for another half hour. Merlin I hated board meetings. I usually avoided them at all costs, and since everyone knew that the Potter holdings were so vast, no one got their nose bent out of shape that I didn't attend the annual ones.

The profits coming out of this company were large enough to warrant my special attention, but not large enough I would have attended had I known that Draco Malfoy would be sitting just several seats away. I hadn't even known he was involved in Krum Brooms. Probably because my own interest in the company was rather small, and only in support of the one Quidditch player I could stand. I'd never seen or heard Malfoy's named mentioned though. Not that it mattered. The old school rivalry had ended long ago, or I thought it had. It was actually amusing to think that once upon a time the biggest threat to me was a hex in the hallway from Malfoy.

Memories raced through my mind of our time together through the years. Most, if not all, wasn't pleasant. It was like fighting a battle, long and strategic with little stupid skirmishes along the way and a few poinant moments to remember the whole thing by. Most often those moments were the worst parts, and one looked back after a while and wondered if there were any good moments, heroic moments, moments that made the battle worth it. If there were in my battle with Malfoy, well, I didn't remember them.

I reminded myself that he had acted well to Albus and James at the World Cup, so there was no reason to be anything less than polite to Malfoy. Years certainly mellowed a person out, and they seemed to have done the Slytherin some good.

Shuffling of paper drew my attention to the fact that the meeting had closed. Thank Merlin. I shuffled my own papers so I could read them at home tonight like normal.

I strolled out the door without looking towards anyone, still fearful that someone would stop me or try to gain my attention with mindless chit-chat. I knew it was no longer necessary. No one had dared in years, but my instinct was still there. Honed from the year I'd endured.

Outside the large conference room my assistant took my parchment and quills, simultaneously letting me know my next meeting was in twenty minutes. I looked around for what I wanted, and spotted a buffet table at the end of the hall. Board meetings I attended often had coffee and pastry tables. I am certain its so that no one has an excuse to fall asleep or claim that they couldn't concentrate because they missed breakfast.

I poured myself a cup of steaming brew, and smelled the richness. I thanked Merlin they sprung for some decent stuff. A hand came in from the right and picked up the canteen as I was setting it down.

"Is it worth it?"

Why was it that I could tell it was Malfoy with out even looking, before he'd spoken? Even in Hogwarts I could tell his stare, well glare, more like death gaze, from a mile away.

What was his question again?

"It's tolerable," I said as I stirred in my additives, namely mounds of sugar. Malfoy chuckled.

"You always did have an insatiable sweet tooth."

It was true, and there really was no reason to deny it. I finally turned and really looked at Malfoy. I hadn't seen him in ages. He still looked the same though. Perfection at its best, though I would never admit it. A Malfoy certainly wouldn't have it any other way. From the top of his perfectly styled hair, to the tips of his expertly polished shoes he was front page paper ready. Including the perfectly tailored suit, with wizard robes over it.

"I suppose so," I stated belatedly.

"I met yours sons."

There was no faster way to get my back up then to mention my sons. Malfoy's tone may have been calm but I wondered at the hidden meaning. I wouldn't allow him to say one word or loud thought against them. They were my everything.

I gave him a hard stare, one perfected to whither my opponents with out words, however he only shook his head as if amused. Idiot. I hated his ability to make me feel like the butt of his joke, as had happened all to often at Hogwarts.

"Stop thinking what you're thinking. They're a credit to you," Malfoy said and actually looked sincere. "Really Potter. You must be extremely proud of them. "

Was he actually complimenting me? I found that hard to believe and searched for the veiled insult. I was a master at the subtleties of elite double entre, but found none in his compliment. Which brought forth the question of what did Malfoy want?

He had to want something. And he needed to stop staring at me with these unreadable penetrating eyes! The ocular dissection was not only annoying it was weird.

It wasn't a hateful gaze, it was just a bit intense, but I stood firm under it. I was used to people staring, I thought with distaste. One got used to it after a while. I watched as he nodded his head slightly, as though a decision had been made.

"I'm looking into starting a new charity to be paired with a camp. I want to model it off of that camp you started in Canada. The one for disabled children, although I am looking to take an economically disadvantaged approach. Would you have dinner with me so I can pick your brain? The research is likely to take forever."

Nothing in Malfoy's face showed a joke, and my camp had actually been quite successful. I certainly couldn't think of any ulterior motive, and he could certainly learn a lot and skip the years of research I had done before opening my camp. More kids would be helped, and sooner. That overrode my desire to question him of why a Malfoy would ever be altruistic?

"Yes I could do that." I mentally shuffled through my next week's appointments. I tended to keep my nights free of appointments and meetings in order to spend time with the boys, who were leaving for Australia, so I was actually quite open. "I can do practically any day this week."

He considered shortly. "Tomorrow?" I nodded, and he smiled. Warm and friendly, in other words, odd and rare. He gave me a strange look then, and touched his hand to the upper part of my arm with a slight pat.

"I'll owl you with the location this evening."

He walked away leaving me there staring after him. I was missing something. What was I missing?

* * *

He said yes I thought as I walked out, trying not to smile, and instead settled for a smirk. I was shocked he had said yes, and shocked I actually made the offer. Merlin, why had I made the offer? Well, I knew why. Because Neville had basically called me a chicken, and I had later realized he was right.

Of course Harry wouldn't have said yes if I straight asked him out. No, he was too used to that, too jaded to the world to going so straight into a romantic entanglement. I imagined he had convenient lovers around the globe; ones who understood he was there for only a few hours and they were to stay silent about it.

Ones who knew they would never be introduced to Potter's sons. That they would never be more than a convenience at best.

I know this because I met one a long time ago. Of course the man was drunk at the time and just mentioned how he had fallen for Potter and then was left with half a heart. I sent the man home with a friend to get over his broken heart with some intense sex, and orders to obliviate him if that didn't work. No one gossiped about Potter…even if it was unintentional.

Plans were flying through my head now though of old courting traditions, which were forgotten except by the elite of the world. I would need to check the books to ensure there had been no updates on the information, but I was reasonably certain I could still recite every rule and idea from memory. Memories of my mother's recitations came back at the oddest moments, though even Scorpius could recite them. A Malfoy heir didn't shirk from learning the fundamentals of proper behavior.

I didn't imagine Potter would be willing for a while, but that was fine. Harry Potter was a changed man and it would take time to gain his trust. Even then I didn't know if there was anything left of the fun, passionate person I knew. My understanding was that his main passion now was business and his sons.

I delighted in his sons though. Meeting them for the first time at the World Cup had been a shock, and I half expected them to break out in grins, whooping along with the rest of the fans, and reminding me very much at Harry Potter during his first world cup. However, they were incredibly restrained. The eldest a little less so, but half way through I looked over to find Albus Potter bored. A Potter bored with Quidditch!

It was in those moments of boredom though that I realized all the rumors were true, and Harry Potter had actually raised his sons to be almost the exact opposite of himself at that age. They were what perfect pureblood gentlemen should be on the outside, but I thought it almost certain that the public shell and the private people were one in the same. The restraint was just too innate, especially for Albus Potter.

It was certainly difficult to watch, and almost sad. Then to watch them with the Weasleys, well, that had been another sad sight. I had assumed the sons must have known the Weasley's to some extent, after all they hadn't been a part of the bint's betrayal. However, the sight that presented itself were two boys who were strangers to the other side of their family. Absolute strangers. Granger had looked ready to burst into tears.

It didn't matter I told myself. I would take my time with the family. Scorpius' on going feelings towards Albus Potter were an issue, but one that didn't need to be addressed yet. For all I knew Harry Potter was in a committed relationship. Which meant that this dinner needed to provide me with some answers before I moved forward.

* * *

I apparated straight to the restaurant that Malfoy had owled the address of, and was thankful it was a quiet place on the edge of Italy that I had been to more than once.

The food was superb, the staff efficient and discreet. I was right on time, and so a bit surprised when Stephanie, the hostess, told me Malfoy was already at the table waiting. I had expected him to be fashionably late, which was an unfashionable irritating habit of the high class in my opinion. Disrespectful.

I was shown to a quiet corner booth where Malfoy sat perusing a menu, and sipping on a glass of some sort of white wine. He had a quick quill next to him, which I was thankful for. Business was a very safe topic, so we didn't end up arguing over anything.

The more I had thought about our conversation at the board room the more I thought it must have been a fluke. Malfoy and I were oil and water with claws and teeth. I had all but convinced myself of that until Malfoy glanced up at my arrival and slowly smiled.

"Potter," he said by way of greeting, which I returned in the like and sat down.

Steph waited for a moment until I addressed her. "The house white, thanks." She scampered off quickly to get my drink, while a pitcher of water flew over and filled my glass.

"Thanks for coming Potter. I started some preliminary research but I certainly appreciate your vast knowledge." Had Malfoy just complimented me, I thought with no little surprise. He seemed to be doing that quite a bit and I wasn't sure how I felt about it.

"Thank you, I'm always available to help with this type of charity." It was my standard reply, and Malfoy's mouth tightened at the impersonal response. That was just too damned bad for him.

We ordered a few minutes later, and I started prattling off my research on Quidditch camps for kids. It was the only way I would have anything to do with Quidditch, and now that the place had opened I never visited it personally. I sent someone to do that and make sure the place was running smoothly, but I didn't keep in touch personally. It was a success, that's all that was important. I prattled off all my figures, expenses, pledging companies, and little tidbits I thought might be helpful to him. The camp was my favorite cause and I knew the numbers by heart. I even went over the numbers for this project with one of my accountants every month, instead of just letting my employees work.

Malfoy looked a little overwhelmed, but I told him he could owl me with questions at any time and either I, or my assistant, would get back to him.

"You must be proud of it Potter." I nodded smiling/

"You must visit often."

I buttered some bread and didn't look at him. "No, it's not necessary. My reports are very detailed, and the children enjoy the camp."

"Oh come now Potter. You don't visit your own camp where a hundred kids fly around daily?" I looked up trying to ascertain what he was searching for. And he was searching for something, some detail.

I fell back on my standard replies.

"No, it's not necessary." Again his mouth tightened almost imperceptively.

Malfoy then nodded and put away the quick quill as our meal came. It smelled delicious and tasted even better.

"So tell me Potter what are your plans next week?"

I had to keep myself from choking on the pasta. Just what was he up to? I mean obviously he wanted to invite me to do something, but the question was why? Social or business? Though my instincts screamed that this had nothing to do with business. I wouldn't allow it to be anything else. Somehow Malfoy gained the impression that we could be friends or acquaintances. I wasn't sure where he deduced the possibility from and honestly wasn't sure I cared.

I quickly thought through my plans, noting the determined gleam in his eye, and decided on a course of action. A Malfoy was relentless when he desired something. So, Australia for the summer it was. I could certainly hold meetings there, and floo when need be. I had already considered the idea since I didn't want to be that far from the boys.

"I'm vacationing with my sons in Australia over the summer." He looked steadily at me, betraying no emotion. I charged on, "We are so busy sometimes that I often don't have time to just focus on them. However, I suppose every parent has their weaknesses," and I threw in a woe is me look for good measure. "So, this summer I decided it would be just the three of us for a month or two." I made sure my face looked properly thrilled.

"Sounds splendid," Malfoy remarked without any real enthusiasm.

I'm not sure why I thought it necessary to expound when the man hadn't really shown an undeniable interest, but it was best to head anything off at the pass. After all, I could never see myself trusting the man, so there was no reason to start purposely being around him. Hours of useless chit chat wasn't fun, I thought with distaste.

"What are you plans for the summer?" I asked in return with a smile, knowing full well that he would have to lay out something, that or invent it on the spot. I really didn't care what he did.

Malfoy seemed to understand that pointless topics were all I would discuss with him. We talked theatre and other sports decidiedly not related to Quidditch, and by the end of our meal I felt relaxed in his company. Malfoy was able to converse fluidly, and there were no awkward pauses anywhere along the line. Success, I thought to myself.

As we paid the bill I felt his gaze on me, and looked up.

"Tomorrow night is the opening of Merlin's Witch in London. Would you like to attend with me?" We had come upon the information that we both had boxes at the same popular theatre, though I rarely attended.

I ensured that my face was properly regretful when I answered him very properly. "Thank you for the invitation but I unfortunately have another business dinner to attend." Over all, it went off fine, and gave the impression that I considered this just a business dinner, which for some reason Malfoy was pushing the limits of.

Malfoy smiled tightly in response, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. I was okay with that though. I had gotten very good at setting the limits of my relationships. Relationship, I thought, what type of relationship was this?

Once the bill was paid we walked out together and headed to the apparition point down the street. Of course by that time there were a few flashes of light bulbs from media, but I ignored them and let Andrew do his work. The man was very effective at getting the media to leave my family alone.

Malfoy walked close to me, and followed my example of ignoring the press. Finally at our destination of the restaurant's private apparition spot I held out my hand to his, for a hand shake. However, he kept mine and looked down at it. I refused to tug it away. Merlin, I had my pride.

Malfoy then looked up into my eyes, staring like he had during the dinner, and making me wonder what he wanted.

"You let her win," he said in a whisper. He said it in a tone conveying disappointment, I thought with frustration.

What the hell was he talking about? I never let anyone win at anything unless it suited me. I was determined to be polite though. "What on earth are you talking about?"

He shook his head slightly and though he couldn't quite believe his own words and thoughts. "Ninety-nine percent of purebloods and high class show the mask for the public and kick back with friends, but it isn't a mask is it Potter? This is who she turned you into." I felt my anger boil up but reigned it in tightly. I hadn't been this furious in years, and Malfoy accomplished the feeling in three sentences! "You let her win. And your boys, you turned them into replicas of you. Their picture perfect, but I wonder if they are as mechanical and dead on the inside as you are? Because you're just surviving aren't you? Have been for years."

I wanted to hit him. God I wanted to hit him more than anything else in the world at that moment, and for a second I thought my anger might actually over take me. I asked myself what the consequences would be though, as I did every time I was pissed off and ready to break my own rules.

Newspapers flashing before my eyes, and the media viciously following my sons. Malfoy gloating as the world exposed me as an overly zealous idiot; a half blood raised by scum. My sons suffering for my decision.

I stepped back from the grip I unknowingly had taken on his suit jacket. Walking backwards until I stepped to the square labeled for apparition.

I hated him in that moment, and he looked on at me not with anger, which I could have handled, but with this look of knowing, pitying, and a bit of disbelief. I hated him.

"Fuck you," stated very clearly, was all I could get out before apparating away.

I arrived at the London estate and strode furious into my office, though I made sure that the door only close behind me with a soft click. I ripped off my out robes, hating their confinement. It had taken me years to get over the feeling of being restricted and now I couldn't stand it. My tie went flying to the side, along with my suit jacket, and vest.

Finally once I was sitting in my desk chair with a glass of fire whiskey I began to calm down. How dare he! He fucking dared to assume he knew me, and my sons! Like he knew anything about anything! Presumptuous prick! Of course it would be a Malfoy to tell me about myself!

I hated most of all what he'd said about James and Albus. They were the best things in my life, certainly the most important. They were cautious not mechanical! Loving and protective over each other in a way the fucking Malfoys would never understand. I had worked hard to ensure that they had every opportunity in the world, and that finally when they walked on to lead their own lives, they had the resources and the knowledge to do so. I wanted to make sure that they saw the world through open eyes, and were never protected from the truth. It was one of the best things I could do for them.

And Malfoy had the nerve to tell I was my mask! Asshole. That's exactly what he was.

I suddenly got restless and at the late hour roamed the halls of our London estate. It was one of my favorites, with its old world charm and lots of space. It was open, which I loved. I hated the feeling of being closed in. I made my way to the family wing and saw the lights off in both the boys' bedrooms.

I don't think they know that I check on them, and tuck them into bed as often as I didn't, even if I was supposed to be across the world. Translatic apparitions had become easy for me over time.

I walked into Albus' room and couldn't help but smile each time I went into the organized space he called his room. Everything had its place and was as neat as a pin. The dirty change of clothes from the day that lay strewn across the floor along with a few magazines were only evidence that he was in fact a teenager.

He slept peacefully, as always, and deeply. Sometimes I couldn't believe how much he looked like me. It was a blessing in many ways, though I'm sure he considered it a curse too. I hated being compared to my Father, and sometimes I wondered if he got the same comparisons.

I pulled up his blankets, and made my way over to James' bedroom. His room was forever a mess. Not because he was irresponsible but because his mind just seemed to be constantly going, and he would forget about a book on the floor when he thought of something else. Well, that and he really was a typical teenager. I often saw the energy and impatience for life in his eyes that I'd had at his age. I wondered often if I would have been like him had my own mother and father lived. I probably would have been wild, the typical son of a maurader. It was a weird thought, and one not worth dwelling on.

James was a little bit of a wild sleeper, the blankets already around his feet instead of body, and he was hanging off the bed in and odd position that would have given me muscle problems but worked for him. I didn't make to touch him, since he was a light sleeper. I just watched for a bit, taking him in.

Sometimes I couldn't believe that two such beautiful children had come out of such a crappy situation. Two beautiful children with feelings I thought sourly. They were loving, caring children. I looked down again and reminded myself that they were almost men. Merlin, where did the time go? It flew faster then I wanted it to.

I finally tore myself away and walked to my own bedroom. It wasn't an overly large room, but still it suited me. I got lazy and transfigured my clothing and spelled my teeth clean. I really didn't have the energy to complete the normal task. I climbed in my bed, and laid in the dark for a while.

However, the more I laid the less angry and more resolved I became at Malfoy. He really was a prick, but he usually only told the truth about what he believed, though with out concern to anyone else or there feelings. It was almost laughable that back in Hogwarts they all told me I needed restraint and manners, and now the biggest git was telling me I had too many.

The weird part was he didn't do it with any heat or hate. The why's of it weren't something I wanted to contemplate either. I would do exactly as I told him I was going to do, and take off for a while. It certainly was easy to have my managers take over for a time, and make sure that the boys were happy. Australia would be a good place for that.

I had subtly noticed their luggage was packed, and that James had a broom tucked in. No wonder he wanted Australia. The one family estate with a nice professional size Quidditch pitch. Would he be upset that I was coming, since he felt uncomfortable playing around me? I hoped not. I meant to enlighten him to the down falls of the game, and make sure he didn't become obsessed, not turn him away from it completely. He was getting to be an adult, and able to make his own decisions.

Tomorrow, I vowed, we would have a conversation about that. I wanted him to be happy. I would make sure they were happy during their months in Australia.

TBC...


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